


You'll Always Miss What You Don't Look For

by orphan_account



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Daddy Kink, Eggsy's not quite on the same page, Emotional Baggage, Forced Prostitution, Harry and Merlin genuinely love Eggsy, Kink Meme, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Not What It Looks Like, Past Underage, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Oral Sex, Unreliable Narrator Eggsy, kind of a darker take on Good!Harry Bad!Merlin daddy kink fic, where Eggsy isn't as into it as he'd originally thought
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s seen Pretty Woman, now. He knows she was a prostitute. Pulled off the street and polished up, just like Eggsy. He wonders if that was Harry’s plan all along.<br/>-or-</p><p>After entering into a sexual relationship with his superiors, Eggsy has trouble letting on that the couple's kink of choice is pushing him toward a breakdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came out a little more angsty than intended, but with the flood of amazingly well written Daddy Kink fic, I kind of wanted to explore a different route, one where Eggsy isn't as chill about having a (consensually) aggressive father-figure in Harry/Merlin thanks to his history with Dean.
> 
> Inspired by this Dressing Room 3 prompt: http://bit.ly/1OemHH4

 

 

It starts off as innocently as kinky relationships usually do. 

Harry’s attractive, Merlin’s attractive, and Eggsy desperately wants to be a part of whatever they’ve got going on behind closed doors; so he agrees to become the partner they’ve never had a discretion to find. The sex is great at first, attentive, kinky, everything Eggsy wanted and more, which is why it's difficult to pinpoint when he stopped having fun and started thinking of it like a chore. Just another duty as a Kingsman agent. Make Father happy. Make Daddy happy. 

It takes three months for Eggsy to start wishing for something better. The burble of dissatisfaction starts small enough, watching how loving Merlin and Harry are ( _were_ ) just on their own, but soon enough it’s grown into an insurmountable tide of longing and shame.

Merlin, Father, always so stern, always so ready to dole out punishment, to remind Eggsy of his place; at first it was playful, arousing. Now, Eggsy feels there’s no kindness there, not really. That singular affection is reserved for Harry Hart; Merlin’s one an only. Eggsy knows their arrangement — Merlin likes breaking him down and Harry adores putting him back together — but Merlin is all to happy to use him like a damn sex toy, and Eggsy had thought ( _had hoped_ ) he’d never have to do that again to get by.

But soon enough after the sessions start, it seems, Eggsy’s getting better assignments. If he spends a half-hour choking on Merlin’s cock until he cries, he gets to run point on a honeypot in Monaco. If he keeps silent when Harry uses the riding crop, he gets a shiny new Bremont loaded with amnesia darts. And Harry, their own dear, sweet Lazarus; Harry is Daddy. Through all of it, even though Harry dotes over him so gently when they’ve finished, he never feels loved. Not like he did before Harry got shot. Not like the man still wants him.

After three months, Eggsy wishes he didn’t have to say ‘Daddy’ or ‘Father’ anymore; he wishes he didn’t have to play a part when the missions are over and the front door clicks shut on the outside world. He wants lovers who want to hear about his day, not men who’d prefer him silent, with his lips around a cock. He wishes for a lot of things, and in that way his new life isn’t much different from his old one.

He’s still a whore, he jokes with himself. Now he’s just a well kept one.

 

* * *

 

Then they propose candidates for the still open Bedivere position and that’s when everything Eggsy has built — what little happiness he’s carved out for himself — starts slipping away. 

Edward Hollander is old school posh, handsome as a devil and the oldest of the candidates at thirty-five. His age isn’t what bothers Eggsy. What does bother him is finally learning the name of the particular gentleman who had paid Dean six-hundred quid to fuck Eggsy raw on the cusp of his fifteenth birthday. The name of the man who left him broken and bleeding with a cheeky wink and a _You had a nice arse, hope you can still make rent now that I’ve ruined it for you._ Eggsy doesn’t know how you could forget something like that, even if you wanted to.

Edward makes it dangerously close to the final test thanks to Bors’ coaching; but he slips up on the seduction assignment and is gone as quickly as he arrived. Eggsy thanks every deity he can think of that the man doesn’t recognize him during their brief ( _ever so brief_ ) exchanges on the training field. But the threat remains. A chapter of his life he’d thought he’d closed, reopened so close to home. Hollander was a hair’s breadth from becoming a Knight, an equal to Eggsy and all of the men he admired so deeply; so damn close to reminding everyone of what Eggsy used to be and ruining everything.

Later, when he’s sore and wet in Harry’s bed — watching Merlin lavish soft kisses on his partner — does he remember that it was only after Edward’s disastrous visit that Dean had started bribing Eggsy. Trinkets and stupid gifts intended to keep Eggsy from running to his mum and running his mouth about what Dean and his friends made him do to earn his keep. Eventually the gifts, which only appeared after nights with particularly rough clients, just devolved into petty threats and and a bit of violence; but the memory has been brought to the forefront, and Eggsy can’t seem to shake the reawakened shame of being bought.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy finds a new reason to hate Dean when he starts seeing his gifts from Harry and Merlin in a different, darker light. He tries not to confuse the two experiences. He tries to remind himself that these men love him, they’d never really do anything to hurt him; but that’s just it, isn’t it? That’s how his mum justified staying all those years. Dean would never _really_ hurt her. 

But he would hurt Eggsy. Everyone would hurt Eggsy.

 

* * *

  

Someone doesn’t do enough prep one night and he tears. It’s not the first time he’s shed blood in this particular relationship, and he’s fairly certain it won’t be the last. 

Merlin clucks at the oversight and Harry fusses over the wound, clearly distraught by the event, but Eggsy’s fine. He doesn’t tell them he’s had worse. He reminds himself to say ‘Father’ and ‘Daddy’, to let them know it’s all okay, he can take it. Doesn’t matter that no one’s ever told him he shouldn’t have to.

The next day, Merlin gives him an upgraded tablet, discretely tucked inside a mission folder detailing an optional assignment in Johannesburg. One of the cities he knows Eggsy has always wanted to see. It’s a kind, apologetic gesture, but even as he gives Merlin a parting smile, walking away with a slight limp in his gait, he can hear Dean whispering, ‘ _Now you won’t go telling no one about this, will you my boy?’_

 

* * *

 

He’s seen Pretty Woman, now. He knows she was a prostitute. Pulled off the street and polished up, just like Eggsy. He wonders if that was Harry’s plan all along.

 

* * *

 

The tablet goes into the box with everything else Eggsy’s earned with his body. 

The cufflinks Harry bought him after his first successful honeypot. The Charbonnel et Walker truffles Merlin left in his office after the first time Eggsy blacked out after an orgasm. A cologne Harry brought back from Paris. A modified Walther PPK from Merlin. A silk tie. Calf-skin gloves. Shampoo. Keys to a Jaguar in the Mansion’s hangar that Eggsy can’t find the strength to sit behind the wheel of, let alone drive. 

After a moment of consideration, Eggsy pulls off his father’s medal — Harry’s medal — and places it beside the cufflinks. He closes the crate and slips it back onto the high shelf in his closet, above the now prominent assortment of suits that now act as his physical (and emotional) defense against the world.

He leaves JB with his mum and goes to Johannesburg, trying on some level to put some distance between himself and his thoughts. When the right people are dead and the mission is complete, Eggsy takes a moment and sits down in a cafe; halfheartedly listening to Arthur and Merlin banter playfully over their secure line. Their words are sweet and affectionate in the way only honest declarations of love can be. 

‘We’ll be waiting for you, Darling Boy.’ Eggsy catches Harry telling him with practiced ease. ‘Will you come home and play?’

**_(—you have to come home I don’t know what he’ll do to us, please, baby, please come back I can’t do this alone you’re the only one that can take care of Daisy—)_ **

‘Answer your Father, Eggsy.’ Merlin warns, just as easily.

**_(—Listen to Dean, Eggsy, do what he says and he won’t have to hurt you —)_ **

Eggsy can’t bring himself to respond, and instead he switches off the private line and removes his glasses, tucking them in the breast pocket of his suit. He’s twenty five, he’s a grown man, he’s saved the entire world and as he looks up at the flirty waitress standing ready to refill his water glass, he forces a smile and tells her, “I don’t want to go home.”

Eggsy knows he has to be done, he has to walk away because he won’t be anybody’s rent boy.

Not again. 

 

* * *

 

Galahad isn’t afraid of anything. Eggsy is afraid of many things. 

 

* * *

 

Galahad's insubordinate behavior results in a formal write up. Eggsy's behavior results in a particularly painful lashing from Merlin when he gets home.

He doesn’t get aroused by the pain anymore. He wonders how he ever did.

They put a collar on him. It’s too tight, and it’s uncomfortable. “Nothing like a real discomfort,” Merlin chides when he initially pulls away. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, so you don’t go pulling a stunt like that again.”

**_(— You ungrateful little shit, after all I’ve done for you and your mum —)_ **

“Everything we do is to keep you safe,” Harry adds, stroking Eggsy’s hair. Later, when he can’t breathe, on his back, spit-roasted with Harry in his mouth and Merlin between his legs, he has the terrifying thought he could very well die like this.

When his vision begins to spot black, the pressure of the collar too much to fight around, he can’t tell them to stop and because Harry’s holding his arms he can’t push the man away, so he bucks, hard. Rolling his hips up to dislodge Merlin. Later, it won’t be lost on Eggsy this motion is a modification of their sexual-assault prevention training; for now he just wants to get them to stop.

“Being willful tonight, eh boy?” Merlin laughs, taking whatever non-verbal cue Eggsy just misdirected as a green light and speeding up. Harry’s still fucking away, blocking Eggsy’s vision and cutting off what little air he has left.

If he could talk, he'd use his safeword, but now without a voice Eggsy’s grasping at straws desperately to make them understand he doesn’t want this. He throws out his legs, kicking at Merlin’s sides hard and hoping to catch him in the kidney, make it hurt enough to just _stop_. He can’t talk and he’s afraid and they both think it's all a game and _he’s going to die._

“— Fuckin’ hell!”

Merlin backs off immediately, largely because he’s on his knees palming his abdomen, and Harry pulls off seconds after. Both men clearly confused, but Eggsy doesn’t care one fucking bit. He’s had proper training with other Knights how to regulate your breathing after being oxygen deprived, but he’s panicking and the sudden rush of air into his lungs blacks out his vision for a moment. He claws at the collar as his gasps turn to seizing coughs and and he barely has time to roll to the side of the bed before he’s vomiting.

He closes his eyes against the involuntary rush of tears and tries to breathe normally, praying his stomach doesn’t feel the need to purge again. He doesn’t know whose hand comes to rest on his shoulder (affection, concern, not for him, never for him), but he jerks away. “ _Don’t fuckin’ touch me._ ” They try to comfort him, but Eggsy’s too lost in his own head to accept any measure of kindness. His throat is burning, his lungs ache and his ass is on fire. He hurts too much to feel the hands trying to soothe him and the apologies that stumble over one another until the words are meaningless.

“Eggsy, shite, I’m sorry I didn’t know—“

**_(—You won’t be able to sit down for a week.—)_ **

“Deep breaths, love, it’ll be alright,”

**_( —I could kill you like this, boy. And I’d tell your mum you died with my cock in your pretty cunt.—)_ **

“Do you need any water? Eggsy? Can you answer me?”

**_(—It’s an extra 50 quid if you want to rough him up—)_ **

“Sweetheart?”

**_(—But he can take it. Can’t you, Sweetheart?—)_ **

He gets his legs under him and makes it to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He steadies himself against the sink, surrounded by Harry’s butterflies, and looks at himself: with his swollen lips, bruised a garish plum color, his neck red and marked from where his nails clawed at the still-tight collar, the burst blood vessels in his eyes; and his blotchy face, speckled with semen.

 _True nobility is being superior to your former self,_ Eggsy hears Harry say, out of a long distant memory from a time when Eggsy thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him to walk away from everything he used to be. 

For the first time in a long time, Eggsy lets himself cry.


	2. Then and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's quite startled when Harry reaches past him to tap the browser window closed and looks, for all of the world, like the Knight he is, ready to embark on his next assignment and not a man who just showed his partner a pornographic video during working hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Two quick things and we’re off: I wasn’t sure I was going to post a second chapter, hence the weirdness with the 1/? Vs. 1/1; and, while this chapter will touch on it a bit, the lack of a safeword/consent issue in the last chapter was a missed edit on my part. To clarify, they had a verbal safe word, but no non-verbal (not that Eggsy would have even used the verbal with the headspace he’s in). It’s since been edited. Enjoy!

 

**Then:**

 

Merlin’s never done anything like this before. He’s never never felt the urge to hand-feed a young lover, naked and pliant beside him at the dinner table, or tie someone up a have his way with them. As his work life has never ceased being overly adventurous, he’s always been content and rather plain with his private affections, and until now these qualities have suited both he and Harry quite nicely.

“And what is this called, now?” He asks Harry, not quite trusting his own ears.

“Daddy kink. I’m to understand it’s quite enjoyable for all involved, done correctly, that is, if a bit socially taboo.”

“Good lord I should assume so.”

The young man on the monitor screen is bare and restrained with soft cord, moaning _Daddy, please,_ quite wantonly. Merlin would be remiss in not admitting the heat he feels stems solely from embarrassment. Then some faceless fellow with a riding crop — certainly not being used for it’s intended purpose, _good lord —_ begins landing firm strikes on the lad’s backside. Merlin's quite startled when Harry reaches past him to tap the browser window closed and looks, for all of the world, like the Knight he is, ready to embark on his next assignment and not a man who just showed his partner a pornographic video during working hours. 

“I believe Eggsy has a pre-existing psychological disposition to this kind of sexual congress, which may make it easier for us to establish a long-term polyamorous relationship. The resulting structure in our private lives may ensure what has started as a ‘kink’ develops into something more concrete.” 

“So essentially you're telling me he's attracted to older men in positions of authority. And you’re basing this on what, exactly?”

Harry gives him a look that plainly infers the stupidity of the question. “Eggsy has proposed this arrangement, or something quite similar, and while I may not be wholly comfortable with the idea, I also do not want to misplace this opportunity. Perhaps if we can communicate our affections appropriately, he’ll desire more than just intercourse.”

Merlin doesn’t quite know where to go from here. He’s an analyst, he can make assumptions until he’s blue in the face, but this is a drastic alteration of the life he’s built with his partner, laid out in incredibly uncertain terms.

“And how do you really feel about this, Harry? He’s your protege, my bond with him is not as profound as yours.”

“I care for him a great deal. More than I rightfully feel I should admit.” Merlin looks at the now blank screen, and sees Harry’s guilty face reflected back at him. “He’s incredibly attractive — I won’t deny that — but I don’t want this to ruin what we have if it all goes tits up, and I assure you nothing is going to happen if I do not have your one-hundred percent approval. I refuse to put either of you through such degradation. However, you should be aware and I may have led young Eggsy to believe we have engaged in behavior such as this on prior occasions.”

“In a  ménage à trois, or this ‘kink’?” Merlin gestures back to the computer. “Because you know damn well this is uncharted territory for both of us.”

Harry pulls at his cuffs with an anxious sigh. “I am not sure I have it in me to discipline Eggsy in a, ah, _non-traditional_ manner, given the nature of my position as Arthur.”

“But you’d like me to do it.”

“All through the selection process for Lancelot’s position, you were able to reprimand him successfully without instilling a sense of resentment. I’m not sure I can do the same. There are still lingering trust issues over the manner in which I made my survival known to him, I’d rather not complicate things while still standing on such uneven ground.”

Merlin is at a loss, and he ends up nearly knocking the monitor off the table when he throws out a hand to indicate the explicit video.

“That was work, Harry. This is sex. Not just sex but the pursuit of a legitimate relationship. You know better than most I’m not the most adventurous bedfellow, the last thing I want to do is hurt anyone, not by accident and certainly not on purpose!”

“We don’t have to introduce any accessories, we just need to be comfortable with the idea of it all in the event Eggsy would like things to move forward in a more-“ “ _Non-traditional manner_.” Merlin finishes with a scowl. “Are we completely certain we can’t just order in and have him over for supper? Sans whips?”

“That will be a large part of this, yes, but the sexual dynamic we establish now should make everything more comfortable for all of us in the long term.”

“You just want to fuck him.” Merlin points out, thoroughly defeated. “Fine. Why the fuck not; but if he’s a better lay than you, Harry, I’m keeping him for myself.”

“This is going to be good,” Harry insists. “For all of us.” The man's smile could brighten a lighthouse, and for a moment Merlin forgets they’re discussing what could very well be the end of their decade-long relationship. 

 

* * *

 

Merlin spends nearly a month researching the ins and outs of ‘daddy kink’ before he’s comfortable enough to even think about the possibility of using restraints or toys or anything tawdry. Almost every moment of his down time becomes dissecting speech patterns and the methods of non-verbal communication necessary to sustain a relationship of a similar nature to the one which he and Harry intend to embark upon. The experience is brilliantly terrifying in how foreign it is to Merlin’s existence, and it really is a testament to his dedication that after a while, the thought of a grown man calling him ‘Daddy’ makes his heart race and his cock swell.

Particularly if that man is a blond with tight abs and a boxer’s jawline.

“I think this might actually work. I can make this work.” He tells Harry one night, after the lights are out and work has been set aside. “I’ll set a meeting then,” Harry says from where he’s wrapped up in the sheets beside Merlin. 

 _Good._ Merlin thinks as he drifts off to sleep.  _This will be good for us._

 

* * *

 

The three of them sit down together in Harry’s office on a balmy Sunday afternoon and carve out every tiny detail of what will be their relationship. The what, where, when, why and how of undertaking something that Merlin still doesn’t wholly understand but is even less keen on fucking up.

Never at work. Never in the field. Designated terms of endearment. Merlin is assigned ‘Father’ and Harry, unsurprisingly, is ‘Daddy’. 

“You should be ‘Mother’,” Merlin teases Harry while typing their terms out into a contract of sorts— and Eggsy actually gets the reference before the other man does. 

“That means I get to be Steed, yeah?” Eggsy adds with a grin. The moment is so quaintly domestic Merlin feels like he’s gotten his first glimpse at what things could be like for them. This could work. It will work.

“And you can be John Steed, Darling Boy.” Eggsy’s cheeks flush red at Merlin’s fond tone and Harry looks fit to burst he’s so smug.

There are less appealing aspects of the conversation, however, like Eggsy’s repeated insistence that he has no intention of coming between the two of them or their existing relationship; which Merlin finds innocently intentioned, but ultimately unreasonable.

“You will be as much a part of Harry and I’s relationship as either one of us are currently, Eggsy. This particular,” he struggles to find a way to skirt the term ‘daddy kink’, “ _dynamic_ has no bearing on your status among the three of us in our public or private affairs.” Harry shares a secret smile with Eggsy that the young man returns wholeheartedly. “If at any point you feel even the slightest bit of discomfort,” Harry adds, “we’ll stop. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt, Eggsy. Now, we’ve come up with a term that, should you ever feel the need to recuse yourself of our arrangement, in any position, compromising as it might be, you will say ‘Brogues’. Now, repeat back to me.”

“ _Brogues_ ,” Eggsy drawls with a cheeky wink. “You made it dirty, Harry.” 

“Brogue is already a dirty word when used improperly, Eggsy.” Harry throws back, tone just as lewd.

Merlin claps his hands together to get their attention. “Boys, I think we just contractually obligated ourselves to a rather interesting relationship. We can either take the time to pull together a meal of sorts, or we can explore some of the more indecent elements of whatever the hell this is. Thoughts?”

Harry, for all of his enthusiasm, seems remiss to make any sort of suggestion, and instead defers to Eggsy with an indifferent shrug. Eggsy, thoroughly delighted and rocking back on his heels with excitement, lets out a low whistle. 

“Gentleman.” He nods to Merlin, then Harry. “Are we going to stand around all day, or are we going to fuck?”

 

* * *

 

**Now:**

 

A fuck-up of colossal proportions has occurred, and Merlin can barely get his thoughts organized over the pain in his gut, the mess on the carpet, Eggsy’s arrested sobs coming from the bathroom, JB barking at the door and Harry himself nearly in hysterics trying to get the lad out of the damn washroom.

“Eggsy? I need you to open the door,” Harry tries again, despondent. “Please, just give us some kind of indication you’re alright.”

Merlin waits, so does Harry, and while there are sounds of movement, the door doesn’t open.

“Darling, please, if you don’t speak to us I will find a way to assure you are alright. Even if it means finding a way in through other means.”

This is the wrong thing to say, evidently, as the crying ceases in favor of more hurried motion. Merlin grabs Harry’s trousers from the floor and pulls out his keys, including the home’s master, tossing them to Harry with a swift motion, furiously whispering, _‘Don’t break the damn door.’_

“Eggsy? Darling? I’m coming in, everything’s alright, you’re safe,” Harry unlocks the door and pushes it open with as much care and patience as the situation deserves, unfortunately it’s to an empty room.

“Where the fuck is he?” Merlin asks, and Harry checks behind the door quickly. “Shit,” Harry says, concern replaced by disbelief. “He went out the window.”

“He ran?” Merlin had thought it was bad, but not bad enough that Eggsy would feel the need to flee entirely. He grabs his own clothes off the floor and pulls them on quickly while Harry scouts out the window into the street below. “Of course he ran, you threatened to break the door down!”

“I don’t see him,” Harry laments, ignoring Merlin and leaning out of the bathroom window, oblivious to his own indecency.

“Well get some clothes on, for god’s sake, so we can find him.” Merlin tries to snap, but he can’t find the energy. He can only imagine what a sight he makes — reeking of sex and only half clothed, but looking at Harry, completely naked and terribly distraught, well, it’s something he never wants to see again. And Eggsy, dear god, Eggsy. When they find him, Merlin will make things right again. He has to.

For all of them.  

 

 


	3. Catch and Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy loves Roxy. He used to dream about marrying a girl like her: kind, funny and sharp as a tack. A girl who didn’t take guff from anyone and could hit as hard as any bloke. Now he’s just happy to have her as a friend, but like everything in his life the status quo never stays the same for long, and he hopes arriving on the woman’s doorstep half-naked, red-eyed and bruised at the hands of her employer won’t damage their relationship too badly.

 

 

 

It takes about three minutes for Eggsy to realize he needs to get out of the bathroom before his lovers break their way in, and with tears and snot all down his face he throws on the hoodie and track pants he always leaves in his overnight bag (for emergencies, funny that) and crawls out the second story window; feeling more keen on breaking an ankle than facing Merlin and Harry after everything that’s happened tonight.

From the outside, nothing seems amiss. No yelling, no barking JB, just quiet. _This is an escape,_ he reminds himself, throwing up the hood and ignoring the burning in his lungs as he jogs away from the house. _Put distance between yourself and your pursuers._

All Kingsman agents have company issued housing within a few kilometers, and Eggsy knows where he could go — his own house, his mum’s — but he also knows where he wants to go. Problem is Roxy has a flat some distance away she prefers to her townhouse and Eggsy doesn’t know if he can make it cross town in his current state. So instead he flags a cab.

The driver looks at him with a hairy eye, taking in his disheveled appearance, odd clothing choice and asks, “Looks like you’ve had a rough go of it, mate, need to get to a clinic?”

He resists the urge to retort, _“Why yes, good sir, I am in need of medical attention,”_ and instead gives the man Roxy’s address.

Eggsy loves Roxy. He used to dream about marrying a girl like her: kind, funny and sharp as a tack. A girl who didn’t take guff from anyone and could hit as hard as any bloke. Now he’s just happy to have her as a friend, but like everything in his life the status quo never stays the same for long, and he hopes arriving on the woman’s doorstep half-naked, red-eyed and bruised at the hands of her employer won’t damage their relationship too badly.

 

* * *

 

 

Roxy doesn’t ask questions, she just bundles Eggsy into her arms and stokes his hair while he sobs incoherent confessions into her nightshirt.

“You smell like sex,” she comments softly after his tears have abated. “Were you,” she hesitates, “assaulted?” 

Somehow he finds it in him to laugh. “Fuck no,” he answers. He can’t blame her for drawing that particular conclusion. This is apparently not a satisfactory answer and Roxy tugs at his hair to make Eggsy look at her. 

“You going to tell me what happened, then? Why you hot-footed it to my place?”

“Don’t want you to be judging me.” He mumbles, pulling at the drawstring on his hood. “You’re all I’ve got left.”

“And you’re all I’ve got.” She echoes. “And I’m the last person on this earth who’s going to judge you.” She presses a kiss to his forehead and tucks him against her chest. “Now fess up. Who do I need to kill?”

Eggsy’s here for a purpose, and he needs to get this out, get a second opinion from someone he can trust.

“You know how Merlin and Harry have that thing?” He asks into her collarbone, knowing full well she’s aware of two men’s relationship. He doesn’t wait for a reply before continuing, “I got in the middle of it.”

“Pardon?”

Just like that, the floodgates are open and he tells her everything. About Harry and Merlin, about the ‘arrangement’ and the gifts and Edward — fucking Edward — which of course leads into Dean and the prostitution and finally Eggsy’s brush with death this evening. Roxy is silent the entire time, eyes wide with disbelief and sympathy right up until he reaches the end, arriving at her doorstep mid-breakdown.

“You’ve never told anyone this, have you? They’ve got no idea what they’ve been putting you through.”

“It was fine at first, but —“

“You know that’s no excuse, don’t you? That kind of relationship is incredibly difficult for people without the life experiences you’ve had, and you just agreed without any thought to your own well being?” She cuts herself off, angry at her own words. “You're smarter than that, Eggsy, and so are they.” She stops herself again with a sigh and threads her fingers through his hair gently, soothingly. “However, I know enough about all three of you that I can safely say this is all likely a misunderstanding. You're imprinting memories of past abuse over the experiences you've shared with Arthur and Merlin. It's very likely you developed post-traumatic stress disorder when you were younger and these last few months have aggravated it."

He pulls away from her touch and tries to process her words, which have cut unexpectedly deep,  but shame wars with embarrassment and he’s suddenly on the defensive.

“Oh, I tell you my life's story all of ten fucking minutes ago and now you’re a bloody expert? Well sorry I didn't have the foresight to recognize my own fucking brain damage, I'll be sure to psychoanalyze myself a bit more thoroughly the next go around.” 

Roxy is obviously trying to formulate a reply when a familiar notification tone breaks the tension of the moment and whatever anger he’s feeling dissipates into an adrenaline rush of panic. “They’re calling about me, Rox, I’m not here, promise me you won’t tell them I’m here,“ he stammers out quickly. “I can’t go back yet, not ‘till I’ve got my head straight.” His chest feels tight and he can’t get enough air. She holds up a hand as if the action will calm him, like he’s some kind of wild animal. 

“Breathe, Eggsy, it’s alright.”

He’s not taking any chances, he’s already pulling his trainers back on and he’s ready to bolt if he has to.

“Just...hold on, christ,” she goes into her bedroom and Eggsy hears _“This is Lancelot…I haven’t seen him…I’ll report in immediately if he makes contact…Of course, highest priority.”_

“I bought you some time, but I would rather not be reprimanded for covering up your whereabouts.” Roxy tells him, pulling off her glasses as she reenters the room. _“_ Not to belittle your experiences, but what I was going to say before is that Arthur dotes on everyone. It would only make sense he and Merlin would do the same for you in an intimate setting.”

She motions for Eggsy to take his shoes back off and pulls a Smythson handbag from behind the couch. “You see this?” She asks, holding up the brown leather tote. “Harry gave this to me after my first solo honeypot. You said Merlin gave you a new tablet computer after a rough night?”

Roxy opens the bag and fishes out a distressingly familiar piece of tech, only to hold it out for his examination. Eggsy’s stomach drops and he can’t help but feel ill. After he's set aside her tablet, identical to his own, she tosses him a set of keys.

“My Range Rover was a Kingsman-issued gift; the very same model I mentioned being fond of during an operation a few months back in Tanzania. As I understand it, Tristan heard me over the comm and made the suggestion to Harry after I popped off a warlord. We’re Knights, Eggsy. We take care of the world, and Kingsman takes care of us.”

If Eggsy could find his voice, or even the courage to look up from his hands to meet Roxy’s likely pitying gaze, he would retort. Say something like, ‘it’s not the same’, or ‘you can’t possibly understand,’ but deep down he knows she’s right. He’s always known, on some level. Harry’s not Dean, and neither is Merlin.

“Fuck."

“I think you have had some terrible things happen in your past, but you need to talk this out with Harry and Merlin.” Roxy encourages gently. "Tell them exactly what you told me and there's no way on Earth either of them will hold anything against you; despite what you might believe."

Eggsy pulls himself to his feet and makes his decision, even though fear is still gnawing at his innards.

“I’m going to use your shower. If you feel the need to inform Arthur of my location while I’m occupied, well it’s no business of mine, is it?”

Roxy gives him a small smile and tosses the bag aside to pull him into a tight hug.

“You’re going to be okay, Eggy.” She teases softly. “For all the murders and assassinations, we’ve worked very hard to make Kingsman a safe space. If anyone tries to hurt you intentionally, you’ve got at least one Knight willing to kill for you. As for Hollander, well, if he's still alive after you come clean to Arthur, I'll just have to castrate him myself. You're free to watch, if you like.”

He laughs and pulls away to rub furiously at his damp eyes. 

“Love you, Rox.”

“Love you, too, Eggsy.”

* * *

 

 

_“Arthur, this is Lancelot. Galahad’s safe with me.”_

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up at agentjacklondon.tumblr.com


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